Stage Exit
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: For Isabella, it's another Fireside Girl play…until she realizes a certain someone isn't in the audience, breaking a promise he made earlier that day. Phinabella, rather fluffy at the end.


Stage Exit

Summary: For Isabella, it's another Fireside Girl play…until she realizes a certain someone isn't in the audience, breaking a promise he made earlier that day. Phinabella, rather fluffy at the end.

English Romance/Friendship Rated: K+ Chapters:1 Words: Isabella & Phineas

**a/n: **Blatant Phinabella fluff. Came from my little sister getting fooled by her friend…I won't give away the ending, only because I want your teeth to rot to the root from the sugar-coated fluff you'll endure. I know this will be short, romantic, and cheesy, but if you enjoy that sort of thing, then read on! Oh, also my ninetieth story, so celebrate! *Snaps tiny noisemaker, releasing three strands of confetti* Yay.

The dark-haired girl gently tugged back the heavy velvet curtains, revealing an enormous auditorium, dimly-lit and packed with hundreds of Danville citizens: parents with video cameras charged, fidgety siblings, teenagers sprawled over plastic chairs, cell phones clamped to their ears. But among these many diverse people, there was one missing, and this single absence was the reason why Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was in her current state of misery.

She dropped the drape recklessly, trudging past her fellow Fireside Girl Troop members, giggling with glee and putting the finalized touches on their costumes. It was another production at the Danville Community Playhouse, raising money for local charities. They were sold out of tickets, which typically would've made Isabella a jovial streak of sunshine, rushing around backstage to check and recheck that everything for the play was pitch-perfect. Tonight though, her hair done back in stiff braids and dressed in cerulean gingham, the ten-year-old child was moments away from tears.

Before Isabella could peer at the spectators in search for him once more, Gretchen grasped her lanky arm, orange hair spiked in a bushy lion's mane. "Chief, what's the matter? We're on in five minutes, and you haven't even gone to make sure the lighting cues are correct!" Gretchen cocked her head to one side, yanking anxiously at her tail. "Are you okay? You seem kind of pale."

"I-I'm fine," Isabella lied, forcing a grin that she prayed would fool Gretchen. "You're right, I should go…the lighting, yeah." With this hurried response, she flounced away, taking the stairs off the stage two at a time. She was not aiming to visit Jerry in the special effects room hovering above the audience. Instead, Isabella ducked, wading through the crowd. With each row not containing her special guest, her chest grew tighter and the lump in her throat widened to the size of a grapefruit.

"Isabella!"

She glanced up, finding Adyson-unfortunately haven been spray painted silver for her role-waving frenetically at her. Isabella swiped at her eyes, ascending the stairs to join her friends. "I'm here," she announced flatly, gaining concerned looks from Ginger and Holly, "everyone in their positions."

The cast for "The Wizard of Oz" scrambled to their designated fluorescent duct tape "x." Before dashing behind the painted scenery, Gretchen tenderly placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder, smiling joyfully. "Don't worry about a thing, chief!" she piped in optimism. "I'm positive you'll do great!" Isabella couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth twitch upwards at Gretchen's inspiration.

Isabella swallowed as the curtains raised, and suddenly she was thrust into a world of blinding luminescence and strident applause and camera flashes, stepping into Dorothy's life. This would've been an amazing experience if her closest friend had fulfilled his promise. Alas, he had failed his pledge, leaving a heartbroken girl in the center of a stage she no longer wanted to be on. "Auntie 'Em, there's a storm coming!"

Thus, Isabella was swept into the cyclone, and transported into a magical, whimsical land where she could pretend there was no one watching, like when she practiced lines incessantly in front of her bedroom mirror with only stuffed animals to criticize her act. But, with Milly barking alongside her as they rescued the scarecrow-Katie "stuffed" with straw-Isabella recalled the earlier morning where everything was going great.

_It was just nine in the morning, and the sun already beat down intensely. Isabella, blissfully ignorant to the heat in her merriness, skipped down the suburban sidewalk, practically whistling a tune. The sound of drills and banging hammers filled the air, sending her spirits soaring even higher, if feasible. She pranced through the gate, finding the two boys standing on a scissor lift, building on the skeleton of what seemed to be a giant guitar. "What'cha doing?" Isabella chirped, catching their eyes._

_"Hey Isabella," Phineas replied, pulling the lever so he could meet her in the yard. "I'm glad you're here, because we're building the world's biggest guitar! And we're probably going to play it this afternoon!" His attitude matched hers equally, and Isabella chuckled before twirling a lock of hair bashfully. The question rose to her mouth, tickling her tongue, demanding to be unleashed to the open. _

_"That's terrific Phineas!" Isabella instantly aimed her gaze at the grass, digging the toe of one sneaker into the soil, a dull blush creeping up her neck. "So, um, Phineas…our Fireside Girl Troop is putting on 'The Wizard of Oz' tonight, at the playhouse. I-I could you and your family in for free, and if you didn't have any other plans…uh, do you want to come?"_

_"Sure, sounds fun!" Isabella realized she had been holding her breath the entire time, and managed to release it in relief, absolutely beaming. "We'll be there tonight!" The dark-haired girl picked up another hammer, leaping onto the scissor lift. "Now let's get started on that gigantic guitar!"_

And he hadn't shown up. Isabella sang with tears in her eyes, belting out the lyrics and the faces blurring, hand in hand with a cowardly lion, a heartless tin man, and a brainless scarecrow. The tale as old as time she was reviving for the people who already knew it so well. Excluding Phineas Flynn.

The final act came, Isabella standing in her own pool of yellow light, tapping her heels together, waiting for the magic. She knew she would make it home, she always did, but it was almost new, this hold-your-breathe moment that made the whole story worth while. Isabella spun like the cyclone beginning her adventure, landing back in bed. She was home, after all this emotional turmoil and witch-melting. "Auntie 'Em? I'm home!"

Cheers. Clapping. Whistling. The crowd is going crazy, shrieking, their thunderous ovation filling Isabella with joy and the understanding that she took these strangers on an enchanting adventure. She joins the girls in a line of bows, avoiding stares directed towards the viewers, knowing that she won't see him. They sprint backstage, and there's hugs, laughter, compliments, and Isabella has never been so close to them, cheek to cheek with the girls she can rely on to be there. Unlike a certain-

"Isabella, you did awesome!"

Gasping, she whirled around, face to face with a massive bouquet of violets. Isabella stood on her tiptoes, peeking over the tips of the flowers, finding Phineas Flynn on the other side. "Phineas!" Isabella could've broken into a song and dance number on the spot she was so happy. "You came, you really came!"

"Of course I did!" Phineas placed the violets in Isabella's hands, his heart fluttering at her giddy smile. "Sorry we were late. I wanted to get you these flowers, but there was a line, and we almost missed the entire first act, and-" He was interrupted when Isabella enfolded him in a warm embrace, their lips separated by the gossamer-like petals. "Isabella!"

"Phineas!" she mocked with a giggle, both turning pink. "I was afraid you wouldn't show up! I'm sorry for not believing in you." Isabella sniffed the flower's heavenly aroma, then grabbed Phineas's hand, pulling him towards the ring of girls. "Come on. We've got a _lot _to make up for."


End file.
